


Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared

by NightFaeChild9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Foreshadowing, Horror, Hurt with very little comfort, I don't own anything you recognize, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Multi, Not completely canon compliant, Orphanage, Pre-Hogwarts, Tags TBA, Violence, Work In Progress, but not complete tragedy either, cliches?, coraline inspired, guys guys the foreshadowing, holy crap the foreshadowing, including the title, may not lead to a happy ending, mentions of dursley family, nothing too graphic, sexual abuse only in first chapter, still use caution, things may not be as the first appear, trigger warnings for sexual abuse of a minor, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12741786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFaeChild9/pseuds/NightFaeChild9
Summary: In which Harry always wished for a family that would love and care for him, and never let him go...He gets that, and so much more, in the form of Beldam. He should have been more careful with his wish. Set pre-Hogwarts. Warnings and rating for violence, mild gore, implied and considerably detailed abuse of all kinds towards a child, coarse language...I’ll add as I go along if need be. Rating may also change if need be.





	Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared

The night Lily Potter (nee Evans) and James Potter died, their son (Harry was his name) was sent to live with Petunia Dursley (also nee Evans) and her husband. Or, at least, he was supposed to have been.  
Albus Dumbledore, the former headmaster of Lily and James, and leader of the Light, did send Hagrid to collect Harry from the arms of a devastated Severus Snape, and he did deliver the small babe to Petunia’s front door along with a brief note explaining her sister’s death...However, Harry never made it passed the threshold.

 

Instead, upon seeing the baby and note and knowing immediately what she was expected to do, Petunia called out to her large bodied husband and they quickly discussed the options available to them in regards to her “perfect” freak-of-a-sister’s brat. They briefly entertained the thought of raising it to be a respectable, normal, human boy as perfect as themselves and their own beautiful son, but dashed it away as soon as they saw the abnormal lightning-shaped cut on the child’s forehead; Bright red and sure to scar in an unholy manner they could never rid themselves of.  
In the end, Vernon Dursley took the child and dropped it---yes, **_it_** \--- off on the doorstep of an orphanage in a neighbouring town, grumbling about freakish monsters ruining his sleep the whole way through.

That was the last night anyone from the wizarding world ever saw or heard from Harry for a very long time…

* * *

 

  
Years later, when young Harry --- just Harry --- is seven years old, he wishes for a family he can call his own as he cries in the cleaning supply closet. Boisterous laughter and pounding footsteps echo in his ears and down the hallway, and Harry covers his ears and shuts his eyes tightly in despair. He hates the dark.

Another boy, his name is Kenneth, had somehow managed to lock him in there when Harry was hiding from him and his small group of friends after morning lessons. They love to chase him at recess, they also love to beat him up when they catch him. Calling him names and making fun of the fact that he doesn’t have parents is also fun for them.  
  
It’s weird though because Kenneth doesn’t have parents either, and neither does Ruby --- or John; Well, none of them do, really. This _is_ a place for orphans after all, particularly orphans of Leslie’s Home for Children. It isn’t a pleasant home, with its deathtrap broken stairs, and wobbly railings; Nor are the people kind, with Kenneth and his gang around, and Mrs. and Mr. Leslie roaming the halls, but it’s the only home Harry has ever known.  
There’s many things Harry would change in regards to his home life, like how Mr. Leslie whacks his hands with a ruler when he makes mistakes during lessons, or Kenneth’s existence, or how Mrs. Leslie enters his room at night when everyone else is asleep...Yes, there’s many things Harry would change; but he is small and weak and powerless, and they are big and strong and smart. There is nothing he can do about it, and one day he will learn to be okay with it.

Today is not that day though, and so he cries over his fear of those he lives with, laments over his weaknesses, and hates very much how he was left here by people who were meant to love him but didn’t want him.

It is hours later--- hours passed lunch time, and three lessons missed --- when his math teacher, Alexander Ivanov (Mr. Alex for short, or Sasha by Mrs. Stepanova down the street), finds him and brings him to Mr. Leslie. He receives detention for missing three classes and is made to stand in the corner (of shame!) for causing a disturbance, while Kenneth and the other kids get to go on a mini field trip to the local park before bedtime...

* * *

 

**Whack!** “Again.” Mr. Leslie says in a monotone voice, a wooden ruler in hand and a stern expression on his face. He is not fond of anything less than perfection in his class, and will not tolerate slacking off of any kind in any duty. If you make a mistake, you must be punished in order to learn your lesson. Even Kenneth pays attention and plays the role of a good child expertly when in Mr. Leslie’s presence.  
Harry, despite his very best efforts, is not as good an actor.

_“How doth the little busy bee_  
_Improve each shining hour,_  
_A-and gather, all the day---”*_

“No!” The ruler whacks loudly against his wooden desk and Harry jumps in his seat, startled and fearful, once again, that the next blow will be his hands or head.  
“You stupid child. _“And gather honey, all the day, from every opening flower.”_ Repeat!”

He’s committed a truly heinous act, Harry knows, butchering Mr. Leslie’s favourite poem. It is by Isaac Watts, but Harry doesn’t know much about the man, or his poem, beyond that Lewis Carroll parodied it in his novel. The one where a girl named Alice falls down a rabbit hole, and into a fantastical world that Harry also wishes he were a part of. He thinks he would love it there, despite the tricky cat that speaks in riddles, and the mean caterpillar. It’s too bad that such a world does not exist…  
  
In all honestly, Harry likes the poem in that book more. He remembers all of it and thinks that it’s much more true in life than the one about the bee; But he is a child and Mr. Leslie is an adult and has more experience in the world, so what does Harry know? Nothing. He’s a stupid child that doesn’t even know how to recite a simple po----  
  
“Always causing trouble,” Mr. Leslie murmurs, but Harry can hear him just fine. “It’s no wonder no one will take you in.” He speaks a little louder now, voice still calm and monotone, and looks deep into Harry’s unearthly green eyes.  
“You understand that, right? You’re a troublemaker, and a liar; And even if you look the part of an innocent boy, they can tell. Everyone can. Everyone can see what a disgrace you are to society, and you will never amount to anything worth noting... You’re useless and that’s why no one wants you.”

Harry’s eyes burn and his face is hot and flushed in anger, shame, and humiliation. Yes, he knows he’s worthless. Has always known since he was old enough to understand that he was placed here because his parent(s) didn’t want him. He knows, has always known; but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear.

“Now,” Mr. Leslie says, sitting back in a chair with a heavy and disappointed sigh. “Start over.”

“Yes, sir.” Says Harry, his voice shaky and raw with emotion.

* * *

  
“Harry.” Mrs. Leslie is the only one to call him by his name, save for a few other children.

With _Mr_. Leslie, he is always “Boy” or “Child”; and with Kenneth and his gang, he is always “Freak” or “Ugly” because of his weird looking scar; But with Mrs. Leslie, he is _always_ “Harry” or “Dear”.  
  
In her eyes, he is beautiful and kind and special (she has told him so); and Harry has always wanted to be seen as special by someone---anyone. He loves how she calls his name softly, loves how she smoothes his hair back from his face and caresses his cheek as if he’s made of glass but deserves to be worshipped; he loves how kind she is and how she lets him eat lunch with her when Kenneth is being particularly mean. He loves her, because she’s his best friend even though she’s older, even though she’s a girl, even though he’s such a disgusting and bad freak that doesn’t deserve the attention...He loves _her_...but he doesn’t love how she creeps into his room at night, when everyone else is asleep.  
  
In fact, he hates it.  
  
Hates how she pulls him into empty rooms on the weekends when Mr. Leslie and the tutors aren’t there. Hates how she makes him take off his clothes. Hates how his body feels tingly and hot and _weird_ \--- **wrong** when she touches places she’s not supposed to… He especially hates how she forces his hands to touch her even when he cries and begs her to let him go back downstairs to do homework or play with the other children---even if Kenneth is there---because he’s _scared_. So scared.  
  
He loves Mrs. Leslie, but never wants to be alone with her.  
  
“Harry,” Mrs. Leslie’s gentle voice calls for him again and Harry reluctantly turns to look at her.  
“Yes, ma'am?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know what comes next.  
“Harry, dear, come here. Let’s play a game. Just the two of us.” She says the same thing each time; And each time, Harry goes to her because she loves him, and she’s the only one who cares for him and he wants to make her happy --- even if he hates their “games”.  
  
With a gentle smile and a hand held out to him, Harry takes her hand and follows her into a room. There is no smile on his face. There is no expression at all. Instead, as Mrs. Leslie kisses him and tells him what a good boy he is, how special he is, and how much she loves him, he thinks back to his favourite book with the girl named Alice.  
  
_“How cheerfully he seems to grin,_  
_How neatly spreads his claws,_  
_And welcomes little fishes in,_  
_With gently smiling jaws!”_  
  
And when Mrs. Leslie smiles at him afterwards as she leads him back downstairs to where the other children are, he can’t help but think that her grin is too wide, and her teeth too sharp.

* * *

  
Washing the dishes after dinner that night, Harry thought of his current living conditions.  
Despite his troubles with the people he lives with, Harry does have one friend. Her name is Nora, but she’s a secret---The second biggest secret he has, so not many others actually know about her.  
She’s small in stature (just a little taller than him), has long brown hair that nearly reaches her knees, fair skin that’s almost translucent in the moonlight, and slanted brown eyes that seem to glimmer even in the darkness.

Harry never sees Nora during the day, but she insists that she’s always there for him. It makes him a little unhappy that he can’t physically prove to Kenneth and the other kids that he _does_ have at least one friend, but the fact that she plays with him every night when no one else is around is enough to make up for it.  
  
He doesn’t quite understand it, but it seems that Nora doesn’t like to be seen by other people; It’s not that she _can’t_ be seen, just that she doesn’t want to be; and, quite honestly, Harry would rather keep it that way too.  
There was one time where Rosabelle and Aaron, two of Harry’s older housemates, had snuck out into the backyard garden late at night for …a rendezvous, of sorts… and had swiftly run into Harry who was too busy talking to Nora to hear their footfalls.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
“Oh shi---Harry!” Rosabelle gasped in a hushed and shaky voice. As she calmed down though, her tone quickly changed to irritation. “You nearly scared the pants off me.”  
“Ah...Sorry Rosabelle…” Harry replied, equally as shocked and trying not to glance back to where he knew Nora to be. He could see her crouched form just out of the corner of his eye, but knew that she was hidden from view by the cluster of foxgloves and snapdragons Mrs.Leslie liked to keep.  
“As well you should be. What are you doing out here so late anyway, you little weirdo?”  
“Rose.” Aaron spoke for the first time, a warning in his voice. Aaron was one of the few kids that actually spoke to Harry like an equal, so Harry liked him a lot.  
“Oh Aaron, he knows I’m only playing.” Rosabelle, on the other hand, he didn’t like so much. Aaron pursed his lips as if he didn’t agree with her flippant statement, but shrugged it off and looked back at Harry.  
“I’m also curious, Harry. What _are_ you doing out so late?” The blonde boy glanced around the clearing suspiciously. “I thought I heard you talking to someone?”  
“N-no! I..I could ask the same about you?” He meant to be slightly accusatory, but his voice only made the question seem uncertain and wary. The awkward smile on his face only served to make it all the more unconvincing. Harry looked down at his shoes and quickly backpedalled the best he could. “I mean, I was only talking to myself.”  
“.......Okay, I know Mr. Leslie calls you a hopeless liar, the prat, but that was terrible.” Aaron said with a half-chuckle. “Want to try again or should you just tell me the truth now?” He tried to peek around Harry. “What are you hiding?”  
Rosabelle scoffed, brushing her auburn hair behind an ear. “Come on Aaron, it doesn’t really matter anyways. There’s lots of things we could be doing right now and, if the little brat agrees to keep his mouth shut, we can get started?”  
  
Harry kind of thought she looked like a right ditz, lightly swaying her body from side to side and tilting her head in a way that she must have thought was cute; And he just barely kept himself from laughing out loud when he heard Nora gag quietly as Rosabelle batted her dark eyelashes.  
Unfortunately, he couldn’t hide his amusement from her gaze, and she brought her attention back to him with a fierce scowl on her face. Harry’s smile quickly dropped.

“What? Something funny, Freak?”  
“Rosabelle! Why would---”  
“You’re just jealous because no one loves you.” She said as she crept closer to where he stood. “And no one ever will either...Except for Mrs.Leslie, maybe. You’re her favourite, after all.” She bent down at her waist to be eye-level with Harry and lowered her voice. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You got her wrapped around your little finger; And now you’re trying to hook Aaron around it too. Well, I wonder what he’d think of you if he knew just how much of a manipulating whore you are?” Harry didn’t know what a “whore” was, but knew what “manipulation” meant and knew that anything Rosabelle ever said to him would only be an insult; Moreover, she was threatening to turn Aaron, one of the few who were genuinely kind to him, against him; and so he shook where he stood and tried to hold his tears and sobbing inside him.  
  
He knew crying wouldn’t do him any good, but there was not much he _could_ do. No one ever believed him if he tried to tell someone about his troubles, he never won when he fought back against Kenneth and his friends (in fact, he only ever got into more trouble), and even if he did, he wasn’t allowed to hit girls anyway. Mrs. Leslie drilled it into the heads of all the boys at the orphanage in how to be a proper, old-fashioned gentleman. Not the ones from the movies, but ones that were _actually_ kind and doting on females.  
(In all honesty, Harry sometimes wondered if that special treatment could be considered “fair” by any stretch, but he never verbalized his thoughts on the matter, lest he displease Mrs. Leslie.)  
In any case, Harry was very lost in what to do.  
  
Seeing Harry’s emerald eyes sparkle with tears, Rosabelle smirked and shoved him to the dirty ground before stepping back and heading towards the house, ignoring Aaron’s angry but hushed tones. She was no longer in the mood to do anything with him, as handsome as he was.  
  
Just before she stepped foot through the back door of their shared home, however, she tripped over thin air and landed face first in a more muddy part of the garden. Face flushed from embarrassment, she got back to her feet and walked faster---- or, tried to.  
  
Rosabelle’s hazel eyes widened in horror and fear as an invisible force grabbed her left ankle and dragged her a few feet back from the house before letting go. She looked over to where Aaron stood, but he didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss, busy as he was helping Harry to _his_ feet.  
Terrified and confused, she ran back to the house but screamed as the (presumably) same invisible force grabbed a fistful of her hair and threw her across the garden.  
  
That got the boys’ attention.  
  
Aaron took a step forward to help her before stumbling back upon realizing there was nothing there.  
“No!” Harry cried out, his eyes following blank space just above Rosabelle. “S-she didn’t mean it! Please don’t hurt her,... But I don’t _want_ her to be hurt.” By this time, between Rosabelle’s screaming and crying, Aaron’s shouting, and Harry’s loud rambling, people inside the house woke up and turned on lights. Rosabelle, even in her utter fear, could see the silhouettes of Mr and Mrs Leslie making their way down the stairs, and pleaded louder for help. A hand closed around her throat, abruptly choking off her screams. It squeezed tighter and tighter until dark spots danced across her vision and her strength was nearly gone...  
  
And then a stranger thing happened.  
  
Harry got angry.  
  
“NORA!” He yelled. She couldn’t see it clearly, but green, silver and blue energy seemed to spark at his fingertips and crackle through his black hair like a broken halo made of lightning.The grip on her throat eased just enough for her to suck in a small gasp of air and then, suddenly, everything was clear.  
  
A little girl with long dark hair and glowing brown eyes knelt over her, her pale arms looked ghostly pale in the moonlight and were somehow too long. Distorted in a way that looked unnatural on such a small child.  
This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. No child---no _human_ was this strong; And yet, the pain radiating throughout her scalp and throat told her it must be true.  
Rosabelle stared fearfully into the demonic child’s eyes, unable to look away,....  
  
Then, Mr. Leslie’s voice cut through the terror and tension.  
“What in God’s name is going on out here?!” He yelled as he opened the back door so forcefully, it struck the brick wall behind it and dented. His voice was stern and solemn and _natural_. The demon-child was gone and as Rosabelle gasped for breath and scrambled her way back to safety as quickly as possible, she realized that the odd light around Harry had also disappeared.  
“When I ask a question, I expect an answer.” Mr. Leslie barked out. Mrs. Leslie had run back into the house for a blanket upon seeing Rosabelle’s dishevelled and horrific state, and returned to wrap it around the young teen. That’s when the tears wracked her frame again.

“It was him! The little freak did something, just ask Aaron!!!” The adults looked towards Aaron and Harry.  
“Is this true, Harry?” Mrs. Leslie asked, voice soft and concerned.  
“No! I...I…” He looked back at Aaron for help, but shrunk away when he saw just how much he and Nora had scared him. Aaron’s expression was that of pure fear and disbelief. Harry glanced back at the adults and could see that the rest of the children in the house were slowly gathering around the entrance. Sirens could be heard in the distance, and Nora was nowhere to be seen.  
“No, please, I didn’t---I swear I---!”  
“He’s LYING! The bastard always lies.” Rosabelle sobbed out.  
  
Harry wanted to defend himself, but knew it was no good. How was he supposed to explain this? Mr. Leslie wouldn’t even believe him when Kenneth framed him for stealing little Lizi’s pencil crayons! So how….  
  
Harry sighed, defeated, when Mr. Leslie stormed up to him and grabbed him by the arm. He stumbled over his small feet as he was dragged back into the house and thrown onto the common area couch where he was told to “sit” and “wait” like he was some dog.  
  
Just minutes later, he could hear the police at the front door and the Leslies explaining that the raucous was caused by a mean-spirited prank gone wrong, and “no, they would not like charges pressed against any of the individuals” and “yes, you can speak to the victim as soon as she freshens up. It was quite the messy ordeal, you see...”  
In the meantime, the police and Aaron were lead into the common area to wait for Rosabelle so that they could carry on with their questioning. The two adults stared at Harry and took note of his downtrodden expression and muddy clothes, and exchanged a glance. With his tiny frame, big green eyes partially hidden with large circular framed glasses, and dark hair framing his face angelically, Harry didn’t exactly _look_ like a bully or mean-spirited prankster but, then again, how many people actually resembled their true personalities? If that were the case, then criminals would be a hell of a lot easier to catch…

When Rosabelle finally showed up, clean but eyes still red, the three youths were questioned extensively as to what happened and why. Harry, thinking that he wouldn’t be believed anyway, remained silent and allowed Rosabelle to run her mouth. She told some falsified story that hardly sounded plausible, but since Harry didn’t say anything against her, the bobbies had no choice but to accept it. The entire time, Aaron refused to speak unless it was to half-heartedly agree with whatever Rosabelle said.  
  
In the end, the two uniformed adults allowed the three youths to leave----but not before they gave Harry their individual contact information in the case that he ever needed someone to talk or turn to.  
  
They left and, as soon as their car was out of sight and the rest of the children were sent back to bed, Harry was bodily dragged out of the room by Mr. Leslie and was thrown into the broom closet that always seemed to be specially reserved for him.  
He heard the jingle of keys before the click of the safety lock as it was turned, and Harry just knew that he’d be in here for the long haul.

* * *

  
Unexpectedly, Mrs. Leslie convinced her husband to be lenient on Harry just this once, and he was let out of the broom closet to be “re-educated” by Mr.Leslie’s hands the following evening.  
  
He walked with a limp for the rest of the week, and he lost all freedom for the rest of the month (being locked inside his room unless it was for lessons) but Harry couldn’t help but feel that he’d lost something far more important: Aaron made a conscious effort to avoid him since the incident, and never spoke to Harry ---even if only to ask him to pass the salt at dinner.  
  
*End Flashback*  
  
Harry shook his head to clear it of the unpleasant memory and continued to wash and dry the dishes.  
He knew that Nora had only been trying to protect him but, at the time, he couldn’t help but think that her friendship was more trouble than it was worth.  
  
He’d never witnessed her outburst again, and she was always calm and nice when they met at night, but Harry could only wonder whenever he heard of one of his bullies being mysteriously injured.  
Just last week, Phineas (one of Kenneth’s friends) had pushed him down the last few steps on the stairs and had caused him to twist his ankle...That same afternoon, Phineas was rushed to the hospital after nearly drowning in the river a few blocks from their home.  
Nora had worn a highly smug smile on her face the next time they’d met…  
  
Yeah, he had a friend in Nora, but how long was he willing to let her hurt the ones around him before it went too far? And how long before she hurt _him? Everyone always does---eventually._ A cruel voice whispered in his head.  
  
_**Bzt**_ , Harry was startled into awareness as a strange sound made itself know; like an electric fly trap zapping bugs.. _**Bzz--bzzt**_. The lights in the kitchen were flickering again. They did that sometimes, whenever Harry was around. It’s part of why some of the other children called him a demon---or just plain “Freak”. He would say it wasn’t his fault but he knew better.  
  
_That_ was his biggest secret.  
  
Strange things had always happened around Harry but ever since that night with Rosabelle, the occurrences seemed to be more and more frequent. Lights, like now, would flicker; small objects would levitate, other things would disappear and reappear. Sometimes he didn’t even have to really think about it.  
There was one time when Lory and Leonard (two blonde-haired, green eyed siblings five years apart who lost their parents in a fire) decided to make a show of eating their dinner when Harry had been forced to go without as “punishment”.  
Leonard, the older of the two, had moaned greedily around mouthfuls of food while Lory ate rather voraciously for her tiny body. Grinning cheekily, she’d taken a thick slice of chicken in her greasy fingers and waved it at him under the table. They were both lucky that the Leslies were away at some function, otherwise they never would have gotten away with such _disgusting_ table manners.  
All the same, Harry was hungry. He’d tried his best not to pay the two any attention but it became harder and harder to do when his traitor of a stomach did nothing more than growl at him constantly. The other children giggled and chuckled under their breaths, a few even copied the siblings, and their supervisor paid all of them no heed, having more interest in his book than them.  
  
All of it made Harry angry though. Why should he be the only one to suffer punishment when the others were equally, if not _more_ , unruly than he? Why was he always locked in the closet? Why was _he_ always being starved? Why did the staff and Mr.Leslie pay more attention to the other kids, but neglect or abuse him? Why did everyone always _laugh_ at him all the damn time!? Why was he always being bullied? Why was he the only freak? Why did he have to put up with this? Why? Why? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhy---WHY COULDN’T HE JUST DO THE THINGS HE WANTED TO!!? THIS WAS SO STUPID! EVERYONE ELSE GOT TO DO AS THEY PLEASED, SO WHY COULDN’T HE TAKE WHAT HE WANTED!? IT WASN’T FAIR!  
  
And suddenly, a plate of food sat in front of him….Shocked, Harry didn’t move. He thought it might have been Nora but a quick look around made it clear that she wasn’t in the room.  
  
At first, no one noticed. Leonard had given up on teasing him, but Lory continued to eat obnoxiously loud while another child tried to tease him with their food in the same way Lory had moments prior. They were looking at him, but weren’t really _looking_. They didn’t see the food. He couldn’t eat the food here, obviously, but maybe he could sneak something into his pocket for later? He could always eat it in his room where he was isolated from everyone. No one ever _dared_ to enter his room anyway, aside from Mrs. Leslie but she was---she was different. She wouldn’t stop him from eating so long as they could keep it a secret from Mr. Leslie…  
  
A small hand crept forward towards the plate but he kept his eyes on Lory, doing his best to make himself look sad and pathetic because that was all that mattered to her. It wasn’t hard, he was used to playing this game. In fact, one of the first lessons he learned growing up was that the more expressions you made---the more you showed that they bothered you, the more they’d do it. It’s why he made an effort to be as emotionless as possible around his bullies. It didn’t always _work_ but he knew it creeped them out and made them uncomfortable enough to leave him alone some days.  
  
His hand was almost touching the plate when another boy yelled. “HEY! HARRY TOOK MY FOOD!!!” Their supervisor looked up at this, because he knew Harry was being punished. Normally, he might have thought that forcing a kid to go without food, one meal or not, might be a little harsh (They needed the nutrients to grow and learn and become useful members to society), but Mr. Leslie and a few of the teachers he’d met so far had told him of how wild Harry could be.  
  
He looked over to the boy who’d yelled and noted that his plate was still there, right in front of him. “U-uh, yeah but, Harry does have food. He’s not supposed to!” And indeed, the child did have food. _‘But I didn’t hear him move. Also, if he moved, why didn’t the other children say anything about it beforehand?’_ he thought to himself. Setting his book down, he walked over to the corner where Harry sat and took the plate away. He threw the boy a sympathetic glance before placing the plate on the counter behind his own chair and sitting down again.  
  
“I’m sorry Harry, but you know the rules. I’ll have to tell your guardians about this.”

* * *

  
Needless to say, Harry’s punishment lasted longer than was planned but, in a way, it didn’t exactly bother him. He’d discovered another ability unique to only him and, while he wasn’t proud of it, he spent his time locked in his room trying to move objects without touching them, or wishing for things to appear. He wanted to understand his powers, and it was clear that no one was going to be able to help him do that but himself.  
  
He hadn’t made much progress, and the progress he did make made him feel guilty and angry with himself, but there was also an element of pride when he was able to roll a pencil across his desk without touching or blowing on it.  
  
It was a complex mix of emotions, but he was used to that.  
  
Harry finished drying the dishes and sent himself to bed, not wanting to be around the others in the house and risk getting into any more trouble than he usually was.

* * *

  
Gray clouds gathered to block the warm rays of sunlight that so desperately wanted to break through. It had been threatening to rain all day, but it seemed that mother nature couldn’t make up her mind; It was frustrating, since all Harry wanted to do was explore outside. Being cooped up in a house, surrounded by people who didn’t like you, wasn’t his ideal way to pass the time, so he did his best to stay out of everyone’s way by hiding in the reading room (it was also used as a classroom for when the tutors came), but he didn’t feel like reading and there was little else he could do but glare at the gloomy weather outside, chin in his palm while his elbow supported his leaning on the window sill. The other arm lay crossed in front of his elbow, and his knees pressed their weight into the soft bench cushion beneath them as he knelt.  
  
His birthday was coming up soon, he’d be turning eight, but he couldn’t sum up any feelings of excitement or anticipation. Everyone’s birthday was celebrated equally, even Harry’s, in the sense that there was never anything extravagant and everyone always got at least two small gifts. One that was a necessity for daily living, like clothes or sanitary pads for the older girls, and one that was a “special” gift that was from everyone. Honestly, the gifts of necessity were pointless since they were always provided throughout the year anyways, but who were they to look a gift horse in the mouth?  
  
Last year, after blowing out the candles on the cake with Sarah and Ben (their birthdays were in the same month), he’d been happy to receive a new set of socks -- as all the ones he’d currently had had holes -- along with a pair of sneakers that lit up --like magic!  
  
Even though he’d already had a pair of well-fitting, intact running shoes, he enjoyed putting on his new ones and running around wildly just to see the blue, green, yellow and red lights flash.  
He’d enjoyed it immensely; For all of two weeks before Kenneth got jealous and threw them in someone’s garbage bin a few streets over.  
  
While everyone was treated the same on their birthdays, Harry still understood that he was different and very few people liked him; And so long as he was different and vastly unliked, he also understood that he couldn’t have nice things because they never lasted…  
  
Still, he could always make wishes. Aaron had once mentioned that wishes only ever came true if you wished _**really** _ hard and truly meant it, and _only_ if you made it on your birthday and didn’t tell anyone about it. Harry thought he’d try it this year. There was the chance that they’d never come true, but he took solace in the fact that they couldn’t be taken away from him either. This year, as he did every year since he learned of proper wishes, he fully intended to wish for a good family, that would always love him unconditionally, to adopt him soon.  
  
“Suli~ au len. Le je le fanilé~ jenti~ Amen zu~n don... Antwo~dal----”  
“That’s a lovely tune you’re singing, Harry.” Harry whipped his head around to see Mrs. Leslie standing in the doorway, a tray in her hands with a small pot of tea, two tea cups, and a few cookies on it. “Mind if I join you?” she asked, a gentle smile on her face. _Yes, I don't want you here!_ Gentle smiles like that were never good….But Mr. Leslie was still home. He could hear him down the hall, scolding the children running and causing noise in the house. She wouldn’t do anything while her husband was home and awake, would she?  
“No maam.” He says, his eyes cast down to her pale blue heels before he turns back to the window. He hears her heels click-clack across the hardwood floor and feels her added weight press the cushion down, but he doesn’t relax even after a cup of steaming tea is set in front of him.  
“Harry,” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “How many times have I told you? You can call me Vera.” Harry hums, not wanting to agree or disagree with her. She was kind, and he loved her, but he knew better than to anger her. He remembers how, when he used to fight too much, she’d slap him hard across the face, or shake him violently… She always apologized and made sure that he was okay, and she gave him rewards in private in the form of snacks and protection from the other children but...Sometimes he just felt like it wasn’t enough. She scared him; And nothing would change that. Not even the love and gratitude he felt towards her.  
  
He tried not to jump when he felt her hand slide up and down his back. Gently, soothing, _loving_.  
“Are you okay, sweetie? You seem…” her hand stopped. “Distant, today.”  
“I want to go outside.” His voice was as soft as Vera’s now and slightly shaking. He didn’t like it. He almost sounded younger than he really was. Fearful. Weak. Vera unexpectedly grabbed him around the waist and pulled him down to rest in her lap, head on her thighs and facing the door rather than her stomach while his legs stretched out across the bench.  
“Oh, Harry.” she breathed, one hand rubbing his shoulder while the other smoothed his dark hair away from his pale face. “You can be honest with me. I want to help you.” Her hand on his arm slid down to his waist, where she grazed her nails across the smooth expanse of flesh revealed to her, his shirt having ridden up. Harry’s tense body went rigid, like a string on a bow pulled too taut. His eyes started to water and his lips trembled as she pushed his shirt higher up his chest and stroked him, “playing” with the nubs there. He was going to be sick.  
“I don’t feel well.” He whimpered.  
“I’ll make you feel better.” Her hand trailed down to the waistband of his trousers now.  
“Please?” He tried dragging himself away from Vera without making it look like he was trying to run from her---although that’s what he was doing. “I just want to be outside.” Her hold tightened on him for a moment before she let out a sigh and released him. Practically shoving him away, she stood up and grabbed the tray she’d come in with and walked to the door.  
“Fine, Harry. Take your raincoat and go outside. We’ll talk more when you get back.” Was her clipped, but still somehow gentle, response as she left.  
  
Harry, limbs shaking, fled the room and threw on his outside gear before running down the street. He wanted to be anywhere, but there, even if it meant getting caught in the rain.

* * *

  
Some time later, Harry had calmed himself enough that he didn’t shake anymore. Brushing the last remnants of tears from his face, he wrapped his arms around his body and walked aimlessly. It was getting darker and colder out, but he didn’t want to return home just yet (understandably), so he decided to head to the park that wasn’t too far from home where, if it started to really pour rain, then he could be home within ten minutes.  
  
He stayed there for over an hour; playing on the swings, swirly slide, and monkey bars and the other equipment as much as his tired body would allow him. He was a little bored at times, not having anyone to talk to or laugh with, but he’d managed to forget about the troubles in his young life; And for that, he was grateful.  
The sun wouldn’t be setting for another hour or two but, with the weather as it was, it didn’t make much of a difference in how dark the sky was. He played with the sand a bit more, letting it seep through his fingers and relishing in the feel of it, before dusting them off against his pants and making his way home as slowly as possible.  
  
“Suli~ au len. Le je le fanilé~ jenti~ Amen zu~n don... Antwo~dalta~n. Felice se~”  
“Li mue~” Harry gasped in surprise and whipped around, not expecting the second voice. Not seeing anyone, he looked up and a bright smile stretched across his face.  
“N-Nora!” She hung upside down on a tree branch but was careful not to let her pale blue dress fall in an indecent manner. Her black mary-jane shoes were clean and tidy, as her attire always was, but he couldn’t help but feel that her clothing was out of place, given the cold weather. Maybe ghosts didn’t feel the cold. Still, he was happy to see her.  
“Hello, Harry. You’re always singing that tune.”  
“Yes, because I love it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever received.”  
“Hm? You really love the song I made for you?”  
“Of course!”  
“Really? Even though it’s not much and there’s no meaning to it?”  
“That doesn’t matter to me.” Harry said, a bright smile on his face. “It’s pretty--- Better yet, it can’t be taken from me.”  
  
Nora swung down from her branch and fluidly fell into a crouch at his feet. She then grabbed his hand and prompted him to continue walking in the direction of his home. They walked in easy silence but, every now and then, Harry noticed that Nora would glance his way with her brow scrunched up as if she were in deep thought. Eventually, when his home was in sight, she spoke again.  
“I’m glad you like it so much, Harry,” she started. “But...I can always give you something else?”  
“You mean, instead of the song?” Harry asked, confused. He liked the song, and he didn’t understand how he could possibly give it back. They were almost at his front door now.  
“No, no.” Nora reassured him with a chuckle. “You’re welcome to keep the song. Like you said before, it’s not something that can be taken, anyway. What I meant was that I could give you something more. Something that could make you happy?” She glanced meaningfully at his house. “I know the sadness you hide inside you, Harry.”  
Harry ducked his head down and averted his gaze, suddenly feeling ashamed.  
“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always mentioned how you’d someday like a family of your own. One that would love you and care for you without condition. Do you still want that?”  
“...Mrs. Leslie loves me--”  
“You’re free to think that, but you know it isn't true.” They stopped at the sidewalk just in front of his house and stood there, staring at one another in silence for a few moments before Nora held out her ghostly pale hand. “Come with me, Harry.”  
  
“...Where would we go?” he asked, voice soft. He almost couldn't bring himself to hope.  
  
“A place where you won't be shunned for being different. For having power beyond your current control.”  
  
“I would be loved?”  
  
“There is a woman there; Like you but also different. She goes by many names, but she’s always content when her children call her ‘mother.’”  
  
“Children?” Harry questioned, curious but wary. His experience with other children, as one could guess, had rarely been pleasant.  
  
“Not many, I assure you, but there are some.” Seeing anxiety begin to set in his face, Nora was quick to assuage his fears. She placed a hand against his cheek and pressed lightly until he looked her in the eye, bright but fearful green meeting the deepest of calm brown. “Harry,” She began, voice gentle but firm. “You are special and unique, yes, but you are not alone in your...exceptionalities. There are those who share very similar traits to your abilities and, together and with the proper training, you could be extraordinary.” She gave a rather forlorn sigh as she removed her hand from his cheek. “I do know, though, that while the possibility of control may interest you, it all means very little to you. You seek acceptance and love, Harry, and I am offering you that.” Nora stepped away from him and moved so that she stood several feet passed his house (now standing in the front yard of the neighbours home).  
  
She was right. The dull pain that struck through his chest made it abundantly clear that that, all that she’d said, was what he’d desired. Affection without condition, love, acceptance, _family_ was all that he’d _ever_ wished for; And here Nora was, offering all that to him---and more.  
He’d never imagined that he’d be granted the chance to meet others like him! And to be family with them…Siblings; Brothers and sisters who understood…..  
  
“ _Everything._ ” Harry breathed, voice barely a whisper on the wind. And Nora responded, “Exactly.” As if she knew what he was thinking.  
  
“There will be no need for feelings of sadness, no need for fear or hatred. You will no longer feel that your life is nugatory.”  
  
“Nugatory?”  
  
“Worthless, unimportant, insignificant, meaningless.” Perhaps she did know exactly what he thought. How nice it would be, to not feel any of those things…  
  
“...Will you come with me, Harry?”  
  
Glancing back at the place he currently called “home” but was anything but, he felt a bubble of anxiety and nauseating fear threaten to burst within him but, looking back at Nora, he shoved it down savagely. This place, Leslie’s Home for Children, was familiar and all that he’d ever known but it had never been a home and, above all, he _wanted_ this---more than anything he’d ever wanted in his young life so far--- and, for once, he would do as he pleased and take what he so desperately wanted.  
  
Smiling sweetly, because she already knew his answer, Nora turned on her heel and strolled down the street with one hand slightly held out at her side. Without glancing back, (he’d already hesitated enough) Harry jogged to catch up with her and grasped her hand tightly in his. He allowed a small grin to curl his lips but was surprised when a nervous/excited/giddy laugh bubbled its way out of his throat. Startled, he laughed some more in earnest. He was really doing this!  
  
He had no idea where, exactly, Nora was leading him but he knew that, wherever it was, he’d be okay.  
  
This was a new start for better things…


End file.
